


Alone in a New Land

by Ghost_Chan



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Crown Tundra, D&D, Discrimination, Gen, Immigration & Emigration, PokemonXD&D, dnd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27170266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Chan/pseuds/Ghost_Chan
Summary: There were a few things in life that he wanted: being able to travel with his friends, go on great adventures with them, and make bonds that would last a lifetime.The law said that wasn't possible here.A Pokemon-DnD Crossover 3-part ficlet set in Galar. Summary probably sucks.
Kudos: 2





	Alone in a New Land

**Author's Note:**

> Series: DnDXPokemon-The Mythicals, Sword and Shield  
> Spoilers: ...eh, none?  
> Warnings: Minor Language & Discrimination  
> Notes: The Mythicals can be found over on my tumblr at [this link](https://hanatsuki-esperanza.tumblr.com/tagged/the-mythicals).

November 14th 2019, Cameran-Galar Border Checkpoint

The paper between his claws was yellowing slightly, ragged on the edges, suggesting age or conditioning. It had been folded in a number of ways, judging by the crease marks, though the most prominent were the ones dividing it into quarters, suggesting age or conditioning. The red and black ink was bleeding in one corner and in a number of small areas, though it did not impede readability, suggesting contact with a liquid, whether intentional or unintentional. The picture in the upper left corner did not perfectly match the individual in front of him, although judging by the paper's issue date, that suggested the individual had been much younger and it had been used for many years, or it had been back-dated to appear established.

However, there was no clear evidence to suggest it was forged. The red ink the issuer used gleamed in the correct places, matching with the patterns of the issue year. The paper's grain had the correct fibers underlying it, with red and gold cotton fibers blended throughout. The issuer's national watermark rested in the bottom left corner, invisible until the paper was held up to the light. It was signed by a Mizuchi Dragonite.

However, while the Request for Passage passed counterfeiting inspection, if the individual who wanted to enter was not in the Approved to Enter Compendium that had been issued over ten months prior, they would be ejected faster than one could say "Dexit."

Maury had not taken a side on the matter of opening the region to immigration and tourism, instead listening to both sides and agreeing both had points. While the right wing had harshly declared that they would be uncultured, uneducated immigrants that were ignorant of Galarian customs and would overwhelm the majority, the left wing had chosen to ignore the fact that tourists and adventurers would unwittingly shape the land into something it was not, instead pushing it as an opportunity for cultural exchange. It was a tricky topic, but that was the past, and this was the present, and he focused his mind as such, opening the tome. The species number on the top of the request was within the first two-hundred, making it easy to flip to that page. Finding the number and name listed, he ran a claw down the information, committing it to memory, before coming to the end of the section where two words were written in bold blue ink.

|3M CONDITIONAL ADMITTANCE|

 _In conclusion,_ Maury gave an internal sigh, _if this was all correct, there is no reason to deny approval for travel._ With a slight nod, he sent the blipbug at his side to check with the towers for criminal records or outstanding warrants issued by other regions.

Looking up from the book, he assessed the individual before him and the items resting on the counter.

Breastplate of reworked alloy-steel (no markings, though plenty of nicks and minor dents), leg guards (of similar quality), a chain shirt underneath (most likely for shoulder and upper arm protection), and a belt and headband of worn blue leather (verified as non-magical, though the headband had residual traces of past spells). A red and white shield with the Kantonian symbol for eclipse on it (although it sometimes symbolize change and rising), a shortsword and scabbard (both enchanted), an ivory horn (with a chunk out of it, looked like tooth marks), a worn pouch of KP with a few currencies from other regions (those being mostly EUP, AD, and USD), tools for weapon maintenance (all from a high-quality crafter, but not one Maury recognized, so most likely a hermit-master), an empty waterskin and rations container (both mended at least once), a worn knapsack (with region patches decorating its surface), and a number of nick-nacks of little value. Minimal. Easy to carry and travel with.

All of the items had been screened before he had gotten to Maury for final approval, but there was always something that could be missed. Just the other day, a pair of pangoro guards had let a zoroark slip through their paws, and it had gone and illusioned itself as the Champion-Regent. The tabloids were having a field day over the incident, and Maury would not allow a repeat on his watch. It shamed the entire Galar Border Patrol, himself included, even though he had not been on-clock at that time and it had occurred at a completely different checkpoint than the one he was currently stationed in.

So it was time to see if this was the actual mon, and not some trick. Maury set the request down, hooking his claws together under his noseplate, looking at the mon on the other side of the counter calmly. There was always a tick, a way an imposter moved that gave away they were unaccustomed to the form they were currently in. He would find it.

Although the individual before him was the same height as he, they were smaller in size, narrow and lithe. Innocent-looking in the eyes of some, perhaps, but Maury noted lean muscles, perfect control of movement, a number of old scars, and the way their ears and eyes flicked and adjusted to every sound and movement. This mon claimed Fighter as their class, and he believed it. This was no fragile wizard or shifty rogue; this was a mon that threw himself into the thick of things.

"So, you're from Kanto originally."

"Yes, sir," Mew grinned, leaning on the counter, ears flicking forward, "served in the Viridian City Guard for a while before doing some travel on my own. Before I left the region, I did a service for the Emperor." One of Maury's antenna rose at the claim, but he otherwise did not react.

"Was that service in The Great War?" A chill ran up Mew's arms and down his tail, which lashed once before going still.

"No, sir, me and my companion were in the Orange Islands at that time." He frowned, not liking the othermon's tone. A brief stare-off occurred, with Maury conceding that this was not an illusion or transformation, but an actual mew. Before today, he would have agreed that they had all died out. Apparently not. And one as an adventurer; the world was still full of things he was not aware of. Perhaps it would do better to listen to the rumor mill once and a while for entertainment purposes and future projects to look into. After all, he had heard that the committee for immigration had been made fun of when they had placed the mew race on its approved admittance list, as the mythical race was seen as dead.

Roswel was back, and gave a brief, telepathic confirmation that there was no criminal record available.

"You will need to check in with your travel embassy after a month, again in two months, and then again in three months to acquire a visa if you choose to stay that long," Mew either did not notice the gleam in his eyes or chose to ignore it, "obey all rules, and enjoy your stay here in Galar." With great deliberateness, Maury inked his pad and stamped the paper under the last date, which read KNT 18.11.15 in red ink. He passed the paper back, noting the previous dates of alola nov 15, 2016, HOEN 21 November 2014, and Kal 12-Oct-2013.

"Thank you." Mew replied in a more pleasant tone, scooping the items back into his bag, donning his belt and headband, and, after swinging his bag onto his back, equipped his shield and sheathed sword.

It had taken a while, no, it had taken a long time. To get here. To get to the border. To be able to enter Galar. The backlog had been horrible, with so many headaches, so many frustrated nights and days of paperwork. But the region of Galar awaited, with new places to explore, new challenges to overcome, new adventures to go on, and new mons to meet. It was going to be a great adventure!

There had been noise humming in the background since Mew had stepped into the hall. Mons talking, asking question, papers shuffling, items moving around, he had heard it all, but had settled the sounds into background noises. Paying attention to in the back of his mind, but not really.

Voices had begun to rise as Mew had been finishing up at the counter and getting his Passage stamped, and it had grown louder as he had gathered his things. But it wasn't until a familiar voice yelled out that Mew's head swiveled in the direction of the disturbance.

What he saw he was not expecting.

A number of pokémon were engaged in a tussle in the middle of the hall, bodies tangled together. Mew’s first instinct was to draw his sword and help the guards, but the mons who were tangled up...one was a jirachi wearing heavy armor, being dragged away by a hulking guard. Mew’s friend.

“J-Jirachi?!” His paw went limp around the hilt of his sword. What was she doing?!

A shaymin in skye form, trying to fly out of reach of the pangoro that was grasping for him. A celebi in green and rose armor, wand flashing with a magic circle.

“Shaymin? Celebi!”

“This is tauroshite!” A marshadow, daggers of solid shadows flashing, his shadow-brother shrieking in fear. A meloetta trying to escape the massive paws grasping her.

“Marshadows! Meloetta!” What was going on?! What was happening?! Why had they been attacked?! Why had they attacked?! “Diancie!” The sorceress was attempting to free Meloetta, but was about to be grappled herself.

“Ah, illegals, I suspect, attempting to gain unlawful entry.” Maury flipped open his tome, scanning the pages with a critical eye. Yes, here they were. Shaymin and meloetta, illegals of the 3rd degree, not cleared for entry for the immediate future. Diancie, illegal of the 2nd degree, not being cleared for entry, but with petition potential. The celebi, jirachi, and marshadow were 1st degree, racial request pending. But for the moment, it did not matter. It did not matter how much money they could pay, or how they would attempt to disguise themselves. It did not matter that they were considered rare races, or had awestricken powers. They were illegal. Uncultured in the eyes of some, uneducated in the eyes of some, and unauthorized for entry by the law written by the Parliment of Galar. The law that Maury would uphold. The fact that they were attempting to violence to force their way into the checkpoint would only reinforce why they were not allowed.

“Illegals?!” Mew couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How are they illegal?!”

“According to the committee of immigration, their presence would shake the balance of the region, and the current meta.” Although Maury suspected the committee had thrown in that last part to make it seem official. And he suspected the list of immigrants was as short and biased as it was because the committee was lazy and prejudiced, but had no definite proof. “Also, the fact that their races are considered myths would mean they are taken as unserious.” Hence why the committee had been taken as a joke when the mew race had been included.

“They’re not illegal! They’re heroes! They’ve save the world! They’re my friends! They’ve never done anything wrong!” _except the Marshadows had their moments of unlawfulness, but they had never killed anyone who hadn’t deserved what was coming to them, but that wasn’t the point!_ Mew shook his head. “Why can’t they come?!”

“The law forbids them from entering at this time. And if they keep up this unruly behavior, it is likely they will never be allowed in.”

“Why? Why can’t they come?!” Maury looked at the panicking fighter, deciding to give the most blunt, neutral answer he could give.

“The law states that only those who have been approved can enter. The law must be upheld, for right or wrong.”

“The law...” He had helped uphold the law in his hometown so long ago. The law was important, to help keep the land from falling into chaos, “...” and while he had seen injustices done in the name of the law, in the end, they had been righted. “The law...” But this...this...this discrimination on who could enter because of your skin-! This was wrong! How could you judge a mon on the appearance of their skin, and that determined that they were good or bad?! You didn’t know! You didn’t know!

“The law is wrong.” It was, as Marshadow had said, tauroshite. And despite the crude language, the rogue was right. _And I’m not going to let it go on like this. If it makes me illegal, so be it!_

“Mew!” The fighter froze, paw inches from his sword’s hilt. “Don’t worry about us! We’ll be fine!”

“Go, go!” Celebi screamed, her magic dying under a mage’s counterspell.

“But-!” He couldn’t abandon his friends. He couldn’t. Even if the law said they couldn’t come with him, even if all others wouldn’t let them pass. He would rather be trapped with them together than

“Don’t you dare!” Jirachi shrieked, glaring at him as she was pulled out of sight.

“Go! We’ll meet up with you!”

“The earth, sea, and sky connect us!” Shaymin yelled, forced back into his land form as the damage became too much.

“We’ll get in!” Marshadow yelled before being pulled from view, “who ... you thi... we ar...?!”

“Mew!” Meloetta had managed to free one arm. In a short, violent twist, she ripped her necklace from her neck, the chain breaking free. The necklace soared through the air, the light gleaming off the black and white stone. “Find us-” the necklace was caught between paws that drew it close to the heart, as his friends were dragged away,“-in the Crown Tundra!”


End file.
